Confetti - A Barduil Birthday (for Moonofmorrigan)
by The Real Floranocturna
Summary: A short Barduil birthday ficlet (modern AU). Thranduil and Bard are throwing a party for their friend and get into an argument over confetti, and it seems that their bickering might rather sooner than later go down the naughty lane. But then there is a knock at the door…


_This is a short Barduil (modern AU) birthday ficlet for you, Moonofmorrigan! I hope you like it and well: Happy Birthday to you from Thranduil, Bard and me!_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Thranduil (unfortunately), nor any of the other characters from Tolkien's Middle-earth. I do not make any money with this, this is purely for entertainment._

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"Did you bring the confetti?" Thranduil inquired the minute he saw the distinct shock of dark brown hair emerge from in between the doorframe.

"What? No, I didn't bring any confetti." Bard was taken aback and his face went blank just for an instant as Thranduil's eyes narrowed in a way that had annoyance clearly written all over them. "I thought _you_ were in charge of that!"

"No, I wasn't, I am quite sure of that." Sweet as honey were the words that left Thranduil's mouth: "You knew that this task was appointed to you, Bard Bowman, and to you alone."

Bard ruffled his hair as he tried to remember the list he had scribbled together for their friend Morrigan's birthday party.

"Just admit that you forgot, and I shall be lenient with you." A suggestive look on his face, Thranduil leaned over the table that was already laden with an elaborate cake in the middle as well as numerous gifts in various shapes and sizes, wrapped in gift paper in lustrous colours and squeezed in between there were more modest ones in wrapping paper that had clearly been flattened out to be reused again. Bard muttered something under his breath that not even Thranduil's elven ears could understand, and if they could he would have gallantly pretended to ignore it.

"Well? What say you, dear Bard?" Thranduil drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for an answer.

"Well, all right I forgot, I'm sorry. You happy now?" Bard cocked his head sideways as he busied himself rearranging some of the gifts, pulling out the more tattered looking ones from where they had been buried in the midst of the pile and stacking them on top. "There is nothing that can be done about it now unless you can conjure up some confetti out of thin air." Bard raised an eyebrow, ready to throw the ball back at Thranduil. "And who needs confetti anyway? Just makes you have to clean up for days afterwards! I seriously hated that after my kid's birthday parties. You'd find them even years later in some inconspicuous wooden crack! They simply are everywhere. So I'm telling you, we are better off without confetti. And after all, this is not a kid's party we are talking about, is it?"

"Well, Legolas always had confetti and loads of it, with glitter and all the perks," Thranduil said sulkily. "And he never complained, nor did I."

"Yeah that's because _he_ was the kid enjoying it and _you_ never had to do your own cleaning like we common folk." That hit home. Bard chuckled, seeing the indignant look on Thranduil's face.

"I didn't mean for you to give me a lecture on the downside of using confetti, I simply wanted everything to be perfect." Now Thranduil seemed indeed to be taking it personal, so Bard veered towards a more forgiving tone.

"But it _is_ perfect. I'm sure she'll love it. Let's double check that we're all set, ok?" He put his hand on Thranduil's arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Yes, fine you're right. It's just that the perfectionist in me cannot keep quiet." Thranduil nodded and allowed the warmth of Bard's hand to take the edge off his annoyance.

"That sounds better. So we'll have to make do with what we have. Which is more than enough I guess." Bard switched now to a business-like tone. "So when is she coming?"

"Could be any moment now, so we better have everything ready." Thranduil cast a last minute glance at the table, tugging at the decoration here and there and making sure that there was enough wine in the cooler and a set of elegantly shaped wineglasses at hand.

"Bard! I saw that!" The familiar crease on Thranduil's forehead deepened as he frowned at Bard. "Don't poke your finger into the cake! Don't you have any manners at all?"

Bard put on a face like a boy that had been caught stealing sweets from his mother's kitchen cupboard. "Sorry, it just — well it looks really delicious and I have skipped lunch today, so I thought…."

"You thought what?"

"Oh, come on, she won't notice one tiny dip, eh?" Bard quickly licked his finger and shrugged apologetically, before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and shot Bard an indignant glare, only the slightest of devious smiles curling the corners of his mouth.

"I have to warn you, such behaviour might ensue punishment." He closed his hands tightly around Bard's wrists pulling his hands out of his pockets again and pinning them to the table.

"Sounds fine with me." Bard held Thranduil's gaze and threw him an indecent look, his wrists still locked in Thranduil's determined grip.

A brisk knock at the door interrupted the two before their bickering would go down the naughty lane which after all was not suitable for the birthday party of a good friend.

Or was it?

"I am not done with you." Thranduil gave Bard's wrists another possessive squeeze before finally letting them go almost reluctantly.

"I should rather hope so," hissed Bard, rubbing his wrists.

"Just give us a minute," Thranduil called as he gave the table another scrutinising look. "The candles! We have to light the candles." He pointed at the cake in the middle of the table that was decked out with a delicious frosting and a handful of candles still waiting to be illuminated.

Another knock, this time slightly more determined than the first time.

"Yes, yes, we are coming," answered Bard towards the door as he rummaged in his pockets and pulled out some matches to light the candles while Thranduil took his position beside the switch to dim the lights at Bard's command.

"Ready?" Thranduil asked, his finger on the switch.

"Ready!" Bard nodded and blew out the match before it would burn his finger.

Thranduil turned off the lights and then they both called: "Come in!"

The door swung open and then their voices boomed in well rehearsed unison:

 **Happy Birthday to you,**

 **Happy Birthday to you,**

 **Happy Birthday**

 **Moonofmorrigan**

 **Happy Birthday to you!**

floranocturna, April 2017

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 _Author's Notes: I hope you all enjoyed this short but sweet birthday story for my friend Moonofmorrigan!_

 _Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!_


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